Psalm for the Sons of Aries
by Chauni
Summary: Shonen ai; A insightful look into the war and how each pilot faces it


Author: Chauni

Email: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com

Website: www.geocities.com/asukalangley2nd/

Warnings: Violence, Self Mutilation, Angst, Slight OOC-ness (with reason)

Pairings: 1x2, 3x4

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters, or "Liberi Fatali" from the FF8 soundtrack. I made no money off this, so please don't sue me, I am but a poor college girl. ^-^

Psalm for the Sons of Aries

**Fithos lusec wecos vinosec  
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec  
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec**

            Wufei stared at the carnage around him, eyes hard. The scene was familiar; it followed in from his nightmares to his days. Fire ate what it could, devouring the once blissful scene and turning it into a hellish reality. Cries of wounded echoed throughout the place, creating a haunting hell for him to walk through. He dodged around rubble and bricks, everything covered in a thick layer of dust and blood.

            "I am strong," he whispered, his hands hanging at his sides. A few wisps of black silk had escaped from his customary brutal ponytail and now brushed against his boyish face. The wing carried screams and the metallic scent of blood, wrapping around him in full force. Someone pleaded for mercy; someone cried for a doctor. 

            "I am strong," he repeated like a mantra. His faith was what kept him going; it always had been. His passions had been the fuel to his life, the fuel to his convictions. But they were starting to decay, fall away with age and death. Cold realizations of mortality had become more and more evident as of late, tainting his once steadfast beliefs. Weakness had slipped its dark tendrils around his heart and began to squeeze.

            He almost tripped over a shard of wood and he mentally berated himself for being clumsy. He felt detached as he slipped away from the nightmare, out the gates of the OZ facility. His feet carried him to where his bike was held; he needed to get away. 

            _What is my problem?_ He growled to himself. _I'm becoming weak! I'm starting to pity them!_ He shook his head; pity was for the weak and he did not deal with the weak. They were not worth his time. 

            If that was the case, then why was he casting a look over his shoulder, allowing his softening eyes to gaze upon the destruction he solely wrought. He shook his head roughly as he disappeared, the shadows finally taking hold of him in their cold embrace and making him theirs.

**Arise from your sleep, my children  
Your cradles shall no longer exist**

            Quatre looked down at his hands, mouthing words that wouldn't come. His soul hurt, ripping him apart more surely than any knife could. He had fought with such intensity, and now, now…damn! 

            People lay murdered everywhere, their bodies forever frozen, screams locked behind still lips. Explosions still resounded somewhere on the fiery horizon, sending small quakes rushing through the scarlet ground. Flames danced several miles off, sending off suffocating clouds of black.

            "Too late," he whispered with numb lips. His fist struck the console of Sandrock and he ignored the pain that shot up his arm. He bit back the scream of rage, of disappointment, that threatened to choke the life from him. Everywhere, a nightmare waited for him, waiting to burn his eyes with death.

            A prayer, soft and quiet, flew from his cracked lips, words of direction for every soul that had danced away. He didn't feel the cool wetness that crawled down his cheeks; things like that didn't matter right now. He didn't matter right now. Those souls, those lost people, that was what mattered. After all, it was for those people he was fighting for, right?

            "And this is what war truly is," he muttered. His eyes fell to his hands, noting the darkening shadow that fell across them. "Why can't everyone see that this is the fault of the war? Why can't everyone see what I have, felt what I have?"

**Arise from your sleep, children of Fate  
Abandon your cradles**

            Duo woke up, howl flying from his lips before he could catch it. His body trembled, covered in sweat; he could see the darkened areas on his sheets even in the night. His eyes fell to the other bed, to where his closest companion should have been sleeping, but found it empty. Deeming it not unusual, the boy swung his feet onto the floor and slowly padded to the bathroom, turning on every light he could reach in his wake, as if to frighten away any demons that may be lurking in the shadows.

            Once in the bathroom, Duo leaned over the sink and splashed some icy water onto his tired face. He looked up and wasn't surprised to find he was staring at himself. His hand fell onto the cool smoothness of the mirror, noting the dark shadows under his normally cheery violet eyes and the grim expression that was donned onto his face. With a numb finger, he traced a line down his reflection's cheek, noting the small line of water that he left behind him.

            "Me," he hissed. A soft smile crept like a timid cat onto his lips and his eyes lightened. "Or is this me?" He shook his head, drops of water flying onto the glass and sliding down. "Which one is it? Who am I?" With a blurred movement, the pilot's fist sailed into the mirror, shattering it. The sound was sharp and like music as it fell everywhere, light and almost happy. Glass tore into his flesh, reflecting the blood and himself with hundreds of eyes. A crimson waterfall dripped into the sink, staining the basin a glaring scarlet.

            He stared into the glass in his hand, watching as the blood fell in a torrent of maroon. "Perhaps this is me," he whispered, almost dreamily.

            "What the hell is going on?" someone growled from the bathroom doorway. 

            Duo slowly turned from the sink, his face blank and white as he regarded his beloved companion. His eyes were wide and vacant as the blood continued to fall, unnoticed. Glass that was embedded deep in his flesh reflected Heero, each piece stained a deep burgundy.

            "Who am I, Heero?" he whispered, holding out both his hands. The blood dripped to the floor in quiet pats, splattering against the cold tile. He wavered as he stood, swaying back and forth dizzily until the Wing pilot caught him and eased him to the ground. "Heero, who am I really?"

**Arise  
Discover the garden of Truth**

            "You're Duo Maxwell," Heero growled, grabbing the only nearby towel, white of course, and wrapping it around his partner's mangled hand. "You're the pilot of Deathscythe."

            Duo weakly shook his head, staring at up at him with wide, dead eyes. "I know that. But, am I the smiling idiot or the God of Death? Am I you?"

            "Me?" the pilot asked, raising an eyebrow. _This is going to need stitches, and fast._

            "The stoic bastard soldier that does what has to be done without question," he explained, a haunting smile on his paling lips. He was growing limp in Heero's arms, drifting off somewhere unknown. "I lost myself somewhere down the line."

            Heero watched as the white towel became an accusing red, soon soaked and dripping onto the white tile floor. Quickly he unwrapped it and picked out several large chunks of the mirror. He waited for Duo to make a sound, moan, cry, anything, but was awarded with a slow, light breathing.

            "You are Duo Maxwell," he murmured, looking at him with uncharacteristic soft eyes. "You are everything."

**Brilliant truth  
Burn the heavens of evil**

            Trowa said nothing as he looked at the photograph that sat on the table before him, his fingers lightly caressing it. A smiling young man stood there, his face broken into something of pure beauty. His eyes squinted cheerfully while his hand shielded his gaze from the cruel sun somewhere off camera. Blonde wisps danced on his cheeks, captured forever in a forgotten breeze.

            What was this clenching in his chest? He shook his head, the jutting bangs swaying. Somewhere, he heard Catherine call out his name, but he ignored it for the moment. The picture called to him; that smile beckoned him to drown forever in a pair of aquamarine eyes.

            _Forget the war, _they pleaded_. For a moment, just shed that shell and remember how to love._

            "Love?" he muttered, his voice distant and unrecognizable to his own ears. "Is that what this is?" That feeling swelled, ripping all other emotions from his soul, until all he could feel were those tight hands around his heart. He allowed his emerald eyes to slip shut while a small breath he didn't know he was holding flew past his lips.

            "What can I know of love?" he asked himself. "I'm just a no-name soldier."

            "But before you are a soldier, you are a human being," a strong voice answered from the doorway of his tent. "And all human beings can love, if nothing else."

            Trowa's eyes flew open in surprise, seeing a calm and slightly smiling Catherine standing in the doorway. Her eyes flickered to the picture on the table, then back at her brother. 

            "Don't forget who you are," she muttered, ignoring the irony in the statement. "Don't turn your back on the heart that pounds beneath that flesh of yours. Your heart is all you have; don't lose it."

**Burning truth  
Set ablaze the heavens of darkness**

            Heero shifted uncomfortably on the mattress, feeling the coolness of the sheets rubbing against his chest. He looked across the nightly sea of darkness and noted his wounded companion sleeping soundly, even lightly snoring. Sighing, he allowed his eyes to fall back to the ceiling.

            _"Who am I really?"_

            The war was taking its toll on everyone. He had spoken with Wufei a few days ago and something had sounded wrong with him, but he knew that the Chinese pilot was full of strength and could handle almost any problem on his own. The day before, he had received a phone call from Quatre, who was definitely shaken up. After a few moments of questioning, he had discovered that the blonde boy had received a tip that a small town might be in the path of a battle, and had gone in desperate hopes of evacuating it, only to be too late.

            Somewhere in the shadows, Duo murmured incoherently, rolling over. Heero spared him a look, and found himself staring, totally enrapt in the sleeping boy. 

            _I've always been fighting to protect the people, but somewhere down the way, I found something else to fight for. Duo, you have to know what is in yourself, you have to know who you are, because I do. Are you that blind? Can't you see what I do?_

            Sighing, realizing sleep was not going to be visiting him that night, he rose to his feet and made his way to the desk. Without knowing it, his finger automatically sought out the power button on his laptop and it flickered to life before him. Green, mechanical light danced across his face while his fingers flew across the keyboard with a cursed familiarity.

 _           I wanted to show you what I saw, but I couldn't. I wish I could show you the truth of why I fight now. Do you realize that all this is for you now? I move for you; I breathe for you. I have changed so much; I can't even see what I used to be. Only on the battlefield am I that soldier, that born and bred killer that I was when you met me. But now, now I wash my hands in the light of your life; I redeem myself in your eyes. Salvation is ours, if we can find it. I think I may have, but will you? I thought you would've been the first, except for Quatre perhaps. Gods, Duo, quit walking through hell blind; once you open your eyes, you'll see past the fires and to the heart of Heaven. _

_            Open your eyes, Duo._

_            For me. _

Prevail, children 

**Fated day**

            The five Gods of War stood on the blood-soaked field, armor gleaming in the noonday sun. This was what their life was made for, the scent of death, the grease of oil, the feel of metal as it was clutched beneath their white-knuckled hands. It sickened them to know to reject this part of their lives was to only reject their very souls.

            Without words, mouths robbed of battle cries, they dove into the fray. Duo jerked the controls to the left, silently swinging his scythe as it delivered a fatal blow to the Leo before him. Wufei, usually the most boisterous in battle, was oddly hushed as his Dragon Fang swung out, grasping a Mobile Suit and flinging it into several others close by.

            Heero hung his head for a moment. He had always respected his companions for the fighting spirit within each of their hearts, something hardened and cold, but something that never swallowed them whole. However, as his icy azure eyes watched them move with silence over their comm. links, it seemed as if their Battle Core's (as he liked to call them) were only biding their time, waiting until their souls had grown weak and weary, to jump forward and take total control.

            _Isn't this always what you wanted? A group of warriors willing to die for their cause, willing to fight until their bodies are too weary to speak, and still shall fight? Isn't this what you wanted, secretly? Someone just like you?_

            Heero shook his head violently, his lip crunching upward as he shot the familiar Buster Rifle. "They don't deserve this! This isn't them, damnit!" Hurriedly, he switched over to Duo's private station, his gaze heavy as he blew aside three of the enemy's suits.

            "Duo, are you there?"

            The braided pilot's confused face appeared on the distorted screen. "What do you mean, 'am I here'? Where else would I be?"

            Heero dropped his Buster Rifle, bringing forth his saber. "You're too quiet."

            Duo snickered, slamming his hand down on several buttons. "That's funny. Normally you're yelling at me 'cause I'm too loud, and now you're mad 'cause I'm too quiet?"

            Heero swallowed, closing his eyes as enemy fire wracked his Gundam. Relaxing his hands and taking a deep breath, he said, "You asked me who you were really, Duo. Remember?"

            "Y-yes," the other boy whispered, his voice barely heard over the crackle of the link.

            "I already know who you are, Duo Maxwell." A shot sent his Gundam stumbling back a few paces, and yet still, Heero remained unphased. "Now, prove to yourself who you really are."

            Another face appeared beside Duo's, black sloe eyes narrowed into accusing slits. "Just what the HELL do you think you are doing, Yuy?" Wufei screamed. "Why have you stopped fighting?"

            "You have all lost the emotion behind your action," he calmly stated, face cold. "When you lose sight of your goal, you lose sight of yourself. You have all become emotionless dolls, tools of a war to be discarded. Where are you now, damnit? Who are you now?"

            Wufei leaned back in his seat, ignoring the blast that rocked his Mobile Suit. His bronze skin paled considerably under the question, and his black eyes were wide. "Who…am I?"

**Fithos lusec wecos vinosec  
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec  
  
**

            All around, flames licked the sky, their eager tongues greedily lapping at Heaven. Smoke overtook the blueness of the air, bathing everything in a sooty embrace. It appeared to be a nightmarish Hell, the fire, the blackness. Nothing else could describe the scene. 

            Quatre fought on, slicing several Leo's apart, his heated shotels splitting the metal as if it were air. No words spewed forth, no emotion revealed itself upon his delicate face. He moved more silently than Trowa, with the deadly accuracy of Heero, all the while still maintaining his strategy and insight. He had become Vengance. 

            His eyes flew to Wing, noting the unmoving, defenseless suit. His fingers flew to his comm. link, but stopped as Trowa's face appeared, even and cold as always. 

            "He says we have lost sight of ourselves," he muttered, tossing his empty, useless gun aside and bringing forth his blade.

            Quatre grunted as he was thrown against his seat. "He-he doesn't know what he's talking about! If he's doing this, then he's the one who's lost sight of himself! Did he forget he was a soldier?"

            "Quatre!" Trowa yelled. "Listen to yourself!

            "I can hear myself just fine," the blonde boy whispered, moving behind a Mobile Suit and slicing it through the middle. The explosion rocked his heavy Gundam, shakily sending it forward a step. "You don't understand, Trowa. These…monsters, massacred hundreds of innocent people! I-I had to walk through their blood, Trowa!"

            The Heavyarms pilot stared at the boy on the screen, memorizing the waves of anguish that erupted over his passionate face. "Quatre…"

            "They need to know what they have done," the boy hissed, his eyes trembling. "They need to feel the weight of their actions! Shouldn't they be punished for their crimes?"

            Heavyarms dashed around, cutting through two olive suits. "You have lost sight of why we battle, Quatre. You are no longer fighting with a clear heart."

            "I know why I fight!" he screamed, taking another blow. His chest had begun to ache, that pulsating agony that rose in his heart, but he fought it down. "I fight for those who can't!"

            Trowa shook his head, eyes closed. "No, Quatre. You are now fighting for death. Death delivers death." An explosion erupted nearby, and static filled the radio for a moment, only to be filled once more with Quatre's innocent face. "Please, Quatre, don- don't die on me."

            Sandrock ceased all movements and the Leo's that were still scattered along the field rushed in, firing. His face disappeared from the screen, but his voice, heavy and weary, whispered over the link.  

            "Die?"

            Trowa had started to falter backwards, strange panic suddenly erupting onto his face. He wasn't doing so well right now, being distracted by the still, confused form of Quatre and the motionless Wing. His own intensity didn't falter, but his companions wouldn't last much longer.

            "Quatre!" Trowa yelled, his voice threatening to crack. "Quatre, fight! Fight for the reasons you hold true! Fight for the truth and passion within yourself! Fight for those who can't defend themselves! Become their god, their savior!"

            Sandrock twitched, then lurched forward, much to Trowa's relief. The boy began to fight with passion and love, his moves becoming smoother with the merciful customary Quatre tactics. Trowa smiled as he heard the boy's prayers to Allah flood through his comm. link, alighting upon his ears in blessed hymns.

            "Quatre…"

**Fithos lusec wecos vinosec**

**Fithos lusec wecos vinosec**

            "Yuy, you are insane!"

            Heero refused to answer, his hands still lightly resting upon his controls. He took another hit, and began to slowly realize that he might have to forsake his plan in hopes of survival. As he was about to fire back, a surprising phrase came drifting over the staticy link, a jovial voice burdened down the years of torment and anguish. 

            "Heero…who am I really?"

            Heero smirked, a soft smile falling prey to his lips. He could feel where this was going, could tell that this was not a question, but a statement that deserved a heartfelt response. He already knew who he was, now, he just need to hear it from his lover's enigmatic lips. "You are Duo Maxwell."

            "And who is he?"

            "He is everything."

            Wufei battled behind them, never stopping as his curses crackled over radio lines. He was a dragon in the blood-laden ground, his actions never ceasing. He listened to their sentiment, listened to their souls, and found himself in their words. His strength, his purpose, all that was lost in a torrent of fierce emotion was won once again. He was reborn; he was the phoenix.

            Duo's lips cracked into a gentle sentiment of joy as his violet eyes cleared. "Thank you, Heero."

            The Wing pilot nodded, falling into his familiar role and swinging his saber once more. The battle was almost over; the blackened sky refused to leave. Fires continued to rage on, powerful and screaming, while the ground was thick with death. Yet, inside the cockpits, resurrection had occurred, soul seeds had been planted once again. 

            "And the sons of Aries will march on…" Duo whispered, dispatching the final standing Leo. "And the Gods of War shall forever battle on crimson soaked earth."

            "What was that, Duo?" Heero asked as Wing slipped into bird mode.

            "Nothing, Heero," he whispered. "Just something I thought of is all."

The End 


End file.
